I started my first conflict
Quietly
Avoiding to be presumptuous
In a pamphlet
Reluctantly
Describing the old days
As if they were new
To make myself and the few
Understand how things changed
Based on what had appeared
All along this years
talking about the yore and its fears
First and foremost, we were merely satellites barely breathing
Craving and deceiving
Begging to be heard
With an oppressed voice, peering for peace that we couldn't afford
Methought, just like the people who asked us about the past
How did we adapt to it so fast
It wasn't an easy road or a short cut
It was not about being gitty or having the gut
We lived with tyrants
Who made us believe that it is okay to be violent
There is no wrong if you murdered someone
It does not matter, as long as you yielded and your commute is done
Broken bones I could hear them crack
With every tread we walked, it felt aback
My pamphlet's pages are nearly done
My fears O fears, are ready to shape a gun
To kill the people who doubted me
And the acquaintances who tried to flee
From a world that used us as rugs
trampled us and cut our tongues
Pressing us beneath their feet
Thus we swarmed to change our fate
Though we made a poison that we can only chug
Now we're merely a dirt that was
Trodden into a rug
YOU ARE READING
Flowers From The Old Tree
Puisi'I open my eyes more often to see beautiful things in ugly things because nowadays no one is appreciating the beauty in the ugliness.' This collection of poems is a pile of papers that were lost and mostly ripped off, i could really relate to the...
